


Act II: Winterlude

by LadyCorvidae, roseforthethorns



Series: Don't Stand So Close to Me [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Angst, Confessions, Explicit Language, F/M, Forbidden Love, Hair Kink, Light BDSM, M/M, Murder, Professor!Lock, Sexy Times, Smut, Snogging, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 13:52:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCorvidae/pseuds/LadyCorvidae, https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseforthethorns/pseuds/roseforthethorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tales from winter break during this fateful school year. Mormor, Sherlolly, Worstan, Sherlolly, Mormor in that order.</p><p>(I own nothing of these characters. All Sherlock rights go to the BBC, Moffat, and Gatiss. I'm just having some fun.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim shows Seb a bit of his house since the boys will be spending their break together...and Jim has a bit of a bet for the blonde.

Seb let out a slow, sliding whistle as he gazed upon the Moriarty residence. "Fucking _hell_ , love," he murmured. "You didn't tell me you lived in a ruddy _mansion_..."

Slipping his hand down to grope his boyfriend, Jim smiled. "Well, of course not. Couldn't have you feeling inferior to me, now could I? You already have an allergy to nice things."

He bristled. "Just not...  _used_ to them. Inner city meant that having nice things made you a target for robbery. Or worse."

"But you could have taken all those nasty robbers with one hand," Jim purred, squeezing before letting go as his parents swept into the main hall to greet them.

"Not when I was seven, I couldn't," he shot back, quieting as the 'lord and lady' of the house walked in. He straightened and did his best to show them that he was a fine, upstanding young gentleman, even as that thought nearly had him howling with laughter.

Jim tolerated his mother's fawning and his father's attempt at humor, introducing Seb as his "friend and roommate," before tugging him off to show him the room where he'd be staying. Jim's parents seemed to be nice enough, although there was something almost...  _plastic_ about the way they conducted themselves. Jim quickly was able to beg off their company with the excuse of showing him around and where he would be sleeping. "Oh, it's so _lovely_ how James has made a friend!" he heard Jim's mother simper. Seb nearly snorted. _Lady, you don't know the_ half _of it._

The room where he was staying was right next to Jim's own, and it was as magnificent as the rest of the house. "Shit... can I come live with you?" Seb asked as he looked around the richly furnished room, distinctly awed.

"Well, you are for the next month, so get used to it." Jim couldn't help but feel pleased, not caring about the wealth himself but enjoying the comfort of having whatever he wanted at his fingertips anyway.

"So... that's your mum and dad," the blonde boy drawled as he threw his satchel into a corner of the room and sat/bounced on the bed, feeling the mattress and sheets gleefully.

"Yes, my utterly unbearable parents," Jim replied, shutting the door and joining the boy on the large bed. "You most likely won't see them the rest of the time except for Christmas morning. They keep to themselves and are only still together 'because of the children' meaning my brother and me."

Seb raised an eyebrow. "Never told me you had a brother," he said.

"Don't talk about him much. Don't care about him at all actually. Quite, quite boring."

Seb smirked. "Honestly not surprised."

"Why's that?"

"Because you don't strike me as the type to be all cozy and domestic."

"Product of a cold, uncaring environment, Sebby love."

His smirk became a cold sneer. "Right bastard the world is... doesn't matter who you are, it always fucks you over in the end."

"Yes, it will do... unless you have someone willing to fuck you instead," Jim replied

Seb actually chuckled. "Well, you have me for that."

"Of course I do. Now, give us a kiss. I have a proposition for you after you've showered and dressed in something more... appropriate. Everything you need is in your wardrobe, and the servants will attend to your every whim."

He leaned over and gave Jim a searing kiss. "Servants? Christ," he murmured as he rested his forehead on Jim's.

The pale boy licked his lips slowly. "Yes, servants. Now, the door to my room is behind that tapestry, and your bathroom is through the door on the other end of the room. I'll be in the library when you're done." With that, Jim hopped off the bed and practically danced out of Seb's room, humming to himself.

Seb snorted as Jim practically did a two-step out of the room. So, secret passageways and libraries? He wasn't really surprised at that, not with the house the way it was. He went and showered, nearly moaning in pleasure at the fierce jets of hot water that issued from the faucet. Once he was done, he toweled himself off and opened the wardrobe.

His jaw dropped.

Suits, jeans, shirts: all looking like they were tailored to his exact measurements. Even the shoes on the floor of the wardrobe looked to be his size. The young man chose one of the suits: a deep blue one to match his eyes and skin tone. It was, indeed, tailored for him. He fixed the tie before grinning and setting off to find the library.

oOoOo

Jim was thumbing through his personal collection of classic literature when he heard footsteps and the door close. "Took you long enough," he said without turning around.

"Well, ties are deceptively complicated fuckers," Seb said, brushing some imaginary lint off of the cuffs, grinning widely as Jim whipped around.

The boy could feel his eyes widening as he took in the image of Sebastian in a suit, a _perfectly_ tailored suit if he did say so himself. It had been easy to get his measurements in the middle of the night and send them home with strict instructions. "Now you certainly look like someone who works for me," Jim said, noting how spectacularly the blue accented Seb's eyes and blonde hair.

The older boy snorted. "Like someone posh like you would hire someone like _me_. What would I do?"

Jim walked forward very slowly, eyes flitting over Seb's form. "Coffee, tea, fetch my slippers by the fire," he teased.

"Oh, let me think... no, no, and _hell_ no."

"You'd be my personal assistant and assassin of course, you berk."

"Excellent."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I get to do what I love with _who_ I love."

"You love killing Sebby?" Jim stopped in front of his lover, fingers trailing down the edges and seams of the suit.

"Yes... watching the light leave their eyes, those last gasps... turns me on like you wouldn't _believe_. Not to mention that blood is just so _pretty_."

"How many have you killed? Besides your father?" Jim was insanely curious, able to tell the boy was hard and cold and hardly daring to believe that he had the same fascination with blood that Jim did.

"Nine, counting my 'old man.' Bums, mostly, but some wanker tried to mug me and it didn't end... well for him," he said, grinning at the memory.

"Tell me _everything_ , Sebby."

"My M.O. is pretty much the same: stab to the back, then slit their throat, watch as the blood arcs out in bright arterial spray, hissing as it leaves their body..." he said. "The mugger was different. I snapped his neck."

Jim couldn't suppress the shiver of pleasure at the thought of Seb ending lives. "Why the change for the mugger? Why should he be so special?"

"Didn't have my knife on me for him. I try to go... ah... 'hunting' once every six months or so."

"You hunt for your victims? Ohhhhh, most definitely a Tiger on the prowl, my fair haired pet." Jim could feel his trousers growing tight and decided to move it along. "Now, then, my proposition."

" _Shoot_ ," he murmured, lowering his voice to that near-growl that he knew drove Jim crazy.

"I had the most provocative image on Wednesday when I left Kitten her parting gift and that was you taking me in the library, Sebby."

Seb felt his lips curl into a smirk. "And here we are... in a library. That isn't all to your proposition, is it?"

"Oh no, you see, libraries have rules. One usually has to keep quiet or risk devastating consequences."

"Oh, but of course. Loser has to do the winner's every bidding in bed for the holiday?"

"Now, I just might be able to live with that. I do so enjoy the idea of you being my little bitch," Jim purred, eyes hooded with lust.

Seb snorted. "And who says that I'm going to be the one who makes the noise?"

"I do, and I'm the Boss, and I'm always right."

"That has yet to be seen. So, shall we test your theory?"

"I think we shall. I've locked all the doors except the one you came through. And I _am_ always right about _everything_ , Moran."

"Perfect..." Seb purred, loosening his tie. "Not so sure about that... you thought Kitten would never leave you and yet..."

"She hasn't left. I have her under my thumb. Watch yourself, Moran."

His tie undone, Sebastian slipped it over Jim's eyes and tied it fast. "Who's watching what now?" he murmured into Jim's ear, guiding him to the stacks of a particularly dusty-looking area of the library. The pale boy couldn't breathe, all of his words dying in his throat as the silk cut out all the light in the room. After a moment, he felt books under his fingertips and a shelf again his arms.

"Let the challenge commence," Seb said, before his lips crashed into Jim's, taking what he wanted and being utterly silent.

Jim forced the sounds down that threatened to break free, hands scrabbling for purchase in the blonde's hair. He could feel the dust leaving his fingers from where he'd touched the books as he ran his hands over his taller lover. Seb could feel Jim forcing back the sounds he wanted to let escape and he nearly smirked. However, he decided to channel that energy into moving down his lover's jaw to trail along his neck, leaving occasional stinging bites. His hands went to Jim's shirt and began slowly undoing the buttons, one by one, baring his pale skin to the dusty, book-scented air.

Jim swallowed hard, choking back a sneeze that got stuck in his nose as the dust swirled around them. His own hands reached blindly down and searched for Seb's buttons, undoing them swiftly once he'd found them. Oh, the thrill of being blindfolded by his lover, the danger that any second they could be discovered, not that he really cared what his parents or brother thought. Seb stripped off Jim's shirt, leaving it around his wrists like an impromptu binding. He grinned as he gently trailed his fingers around from the small of his back to the button and zip of his trousers, palming the already hard length of him through the material of it. He deftly opened the garment, snaking his hand inside to cup and squeeze and fondle.

Hampered by the fabric around his wrists and too turned on to try and get the cuffs off, Jim was about to rip open the collar of Seb's shirt when he stopped breathing, Seb's scalding hand on his already overheated member. Leaning forward, he bit the other boy's shoulder hard to keep from moaning. He bared his teeth as Jim bit his shoulder hard enough to nearly draw blood, mindful to keep quiet. His own cock was hard nearly to the point of pain and he removed his hands so he could undo his own trousers. He stroked himself for a moment, his eyes almost fluttering shut before he grabbed Jim's hips and ground against him.

Jim moved his mouth to the right and bit down again, exhaling sharply as he fought to keep himself quiet. He was determined not to break first and ground back against Sebastian with every trick in the book. The older man nearly bit through his tongue as Jim worked his hips artfully against his own. He _nearly_ growled, but held himself back as he worked Jim's trousers and pants off of his hips, allowing the material to fall to the floor with a soft 'flump'. He wriggled his own down a bit before grinding, bare skin to bare skin, against Jim's cock, letting him feel just how hard he was for him.

Jim was flushed, a faint sheen of sweat coating his brow as his bottom half hit the warm air of the library and bare skin contact had him arching into Seb and yanking the boy down for an equally heated kiss. He added a hand to the mix, squeezing and tugging before reaching into his own shirt pocket and handing Seb a bottle. The blonde returned the kiss fervently and shuddered violently as Jim's hand came down to caress him. He smirked and nearly laughed as Jim handed him a bottle from his shirt pocket... a bottle of lube. He turned Jim around so his back was facing Seb and bent him over slightly, so that he was in a half-bow. He slicked his fingers and wriggled two into Jim's entrance, making them go deeper before curling and thrusting them.

Jim swallowed several moans and whimpers, working himself backwards on the fingers curling inside him, his body almost seizing up as Seb hit his prostate. The boy grinned, flicking his fingers gently against it before withdrawing them and quickly sliding a condom over his length and pressing into Jim, slowly. He waited for his lover to acclimate to the invasion, to the feeling of being stretched and filled, his fingernails digging into Jim's hips.

It was so hard not to scream or moan, his hands straining to hold onto the bookshelves and the burn and pleasure of a cock up his arse making him tremble and sweat. Jim was losing his control. This _ordinary boy_ was making him lose control. Seb slowly pulled back, stilling himself, before snapping his hips forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in a single thrust and hitting Jim's prostate all at the same time.

That did it. He was unable to squelch the soft squeak before it reached his vocal folds and slipped past his lips. _Bloodyfuckingbuggerall_.

Seb's smile was huge and one of glee and triumph. He traced the words "I Win" with a finger on Jim's skin as he began a hard rhythm.

"Fuck you," the smaller boy growled back as waves of pleasure rolled through him, the bookshelf rocking slightly.

"But that's what _I'm_ doing, my love" he murmured as he slowed.

Snarling, Jim rocked back hard, trying to speed them back up but Seb's next words stilled him

"Oh, my love... now I'm the _master_..." Seb whispered in Jim's ear before nipping the lobe, knowing that it would help get him off. "You feel so _good_ around me... and you will for the next four weeks. Now I own you... soul and body."

Jim had to suddenly swallow the inordinate amount of spit that flooded his mouth even though the thought of Seb controlling him in any capacity made him angry, but the blonde had almost completely stilled, and the genius wanted to get off so bad he couldn't see straight.

"Do you want to come?" Seb asked. There was no reply but for a sullen silence. "I asked you a _question_..." he said, moving one hand down to squeeze and stroke Jim's cock. The pale boy nodded, biting his lip as he dug his forehead against the shelf in front of him.

"Good _boy_..." Sebastian purred, before holding the back of Jim's neck in his teeth, the way a tiger would hold its prey. He sped his thrusts and strokes until he could feel Jim beginning to twitch, signifying the end was near.

Seb had never done this, and the skin of his neck was in the boy's mouth and he could feel his tongue and Jim was coming, biting back screams of ecstasy that he would save for an empty house as he hissed and moaned and whimpered, clenching as hard as he could around Seb as his own knees threatened to give way. The older boy came with a guttural groan as he felt Jim clench hard around him, his cock jerking and spilling into the condom, just as Jim was coming all over the floor in front of them in great, wet arcs. "Oh, my love..." he murmured as they both were spent, resting his forehead on Jim's shoulder as he slowly withdrew and removed the blindfold.

Jim turned around slowly, slightly unsteady at the loss of contact and the brightness of the lights after his sense of sight being cut off by the tie. He looked up at Seb with anger and exhaustion. "You... tricked... me... you _knew_ I'd make a sound... that's why your reward... was me doing _your_ bidding... for a month."

"Well _done_."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Maybe a little. Lighten up... you're on holiday, and I just shagged you breathless. It's the Christmas spirit, Jimmy-my-lad."

" _Never_ call me that again," Jim huffed, pulling his trouser and pants up before sliding his rumpled shirt back up onto his shoulders. He hadn't even managed to get Seb properly undressed. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top and his jacket on the floor, but his torso was still clad.

"Fine, whatever. After four weeks, I'll stop," he said, grinning cheekily. He really wouldn't call Jim that, though; he thought it sounded too trite.

"So glib, I thought you would give me a harder time than that. You're slipping, pet," Jim huffed, strolling past his lover.

Seb reached forward and pinched Jim's arse. "We shall see," he said, smirking as he walked quickly out of his reach.

The boy squeaked, whirling around and shoving the half-clothed Seb against the nearest wall. "Oh?"

Seb quickly regained control, pinning Jim by the wrists. "Yes, _oh_. I'll call you whatever I _want_. Four weeks of doing _my_ bidding in bed..."

" _Only_ in bed, Tiger. That was the bargain. Should've gone for more before you sealed the deal with the Devil with a kiss," Jim replied, heart back in his throat as the blood drained from his wrists and his mouth went dry.

"I'll take my chances. I like to play with fire."

"I tend to burn those who try and get close to me."

"Except me. Never going to burn me, Jim. And no matter how much you warn me, I won't stay away."

"Quite a stupid pet, then."

"Yes, yes, insult me. I prefer the term 'loyal' over 'stupid', though."

"Loyalty is just a kinder word for stupidity, don't you think?"

"No. Loyalty is a  less intense word for love."

Jim couldn't help the half sneer on his face. "And what's to say I'm loyal? I slept with you and Kitten for months, almost succeeded in throttling her. That's not loyalty. And I certainly wasn't loyal to you-"

Seb held up fingers to Jim's lips to stop him from speaking, a surprisingly gentle gesture. "You're loyal because, let's face it, Jim, you've never loved anyone before. Well, anyone other than yourself. Love is a... a mutual loyalty, of sorts."

"Then explain, Tiger, because not even my parents have ever felt love for me. I've gotten by just fine on my own."

Seb thought for a moment, then took Jim's hand and placed it over his heart. "Love is knowing that this heart beats only for you, and that it always will."

"But it won't because people change and move on and leave you behind. I've seen it happen time and time again, Sebastian."

He cracked a smile. "Not with me. I know for a fact, a solid, cold fact that I'll never love anyone else. No one but you."

"And how could you _possibly_ know that?" Jim sneered

"Because I know that I would, willingly and without a second thought, die for you. I would take a bullet through the brain if it meant keeping you safe."

 _Wow_. Jim stared up at the boy at a complete loss for words. Sebastian was the only person to ever render him speechless in his life. Seb gave him a gentle smile before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to Jim's shocked mouth. Jim took it, following the boy's lips as he started to pull away. "Don't-"

Seb recaptured the questing mouth, threading his fingers through Jim's dark hair and pulling him closer to him. Jim jumped up, wrapping his legs around Seb's waist and kissing him back even harder than before. He decided that as long as this was going to last, he would bloody well make the most of it.

He chuckled into Jim's mouth and put his hands under his lover's arse to support him as they snogged, desperate, hardly breathing except when air was necessary to prevent them from passing out. "I love you..." he murmured into Jim's mouth in a brief lull in their kissing.

"Pretty sure I love you back," Jim murmured, mulling over his thoughts as they kissed. Seb was different and their relationship was different. The thought of doing to Sebastian what he had done to Molly nearly sickened him to the point of throwing up, but he could feel somewhere that if it came down to it, he had the power to do it anyway, to throw away the first person who loved him in spite of everything. Molly might have thought she loved him but look how quickly she went back to doting on her professor. She had been infatuated, but Sebastian...  _Sebastian Moran_... he had stayed, stuck by Jim's side even with the boy's rants and hits and bites and constant injury of him. He was a masochist for sure, but he said he loved him...

"Good," said Seb. It was enough.


	2. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock runs into Molly at a bookstore over the break.

Christmas and New Year's were dull affairs normally in the Holmes family, but Mycroft surprised them all by returning from sabbatical just to spend the holiday with Sherlock and Mummy, something the young professor dreaded with every fiber of his being; Mycroft had always been able to read him better than anyone, and now was not the time for his secrets to come to light.

"So... what's she like?" the elder Holmes quipped, looking carefully at Sherlock, legs crossed and hands steepled under his chin.

Sherlock's head whipped around. "What?"

"Whoever it is that you're thinking about. Your eyes have been distant and your pupils dilated for the past ten minutes or so. Clear signs of attraction and romance...or drug use, which I don't think we want to delve into _again_ , now do we?"

"Don't be thick, Mycroft. You would have smelled drugs on me before you even touched down at Heathrow."

"Which leaves only one option. And while I would hardly believe it, as you're so fond of saying, 'whatever conclusion remains, however impossible, must be the truth.' I shall repeat my question. _What's she like_?"

Sherlock bit back a torrent of retorts that he knew his annoyingly observant older brother would just deflect. "Fine."

"Just...  _fine_? Even for you, that's dull. She has no personality, no redeeming qualities whatsoever?"

"Why can't you just sod off, you overgrown ponce?"

Mycroft had to crack a smile. "Because I want to know what rare and arresting creature has so captured my usually stoic baby brother's heart and mind."

"She captured nothing. More like I slowly realized I reciprocated her... sentiments."

"Of course..." said Mycroft drily.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean? You've mocked me my entire life. How is it that I feel this time is different?"

"Because I'm genuinely interested."

"You've said that before. You never were."

"This time I am. My stoic little brother, the 'confirmed bachelor', is in love." Then he pulled a face. "And I have no idea who she is, despite my vast intellect," he admitted, scowling slightly.

"Are you referring to the remarks made of 'confirmed bachelor' because I'm not actually gay like you?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Not _everything_ I say is an attack against you, Sherly."

"It has been my entire life. Why would you change your MO now? Oh, and good job getting Lestrade to let me stay. Did you finally promise him a date?"

Mycroft's eyes went steely. "You'll want to leave this room," he said softly.

"Or what?"

"Or when I do find out who she is, I'll tell her everything. And I do mean _everything_."

Sherlock blanched. "You wouldn't."

"Try me, I really wish you _would_. Either leave or face the consequences of your actions."

"She's illuminating, all right? And she's intelligent and clever and funny and knows her Bard very well. Is that enough for you?"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow and allowed one side of his mouth to quirk upwards. " 'O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright,' " he quoted.

"It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night," Sherlock replied without missing a beat. (1)

"Yes yes, we could sit here and quote dear old William back and forth at each other until the end of time, but I do remember asking you to _leave_?" Mycroft said, his gaze going cold again.

"I answered your question, thank you. And this happens to be _our_ childhood home, not yours."

"Yes, and some fresh air would do you good. Now run along, Sherly."

"I'm not seven years old anymore, Mycroft."

"To me, you'll always be."

"Not fair."

Mycroft grinned almost unpleasantly. "Such is life, little brother. Now _go_."

"You wouldn't _really_ do it. And I just asked a simple question. Goodness knows the mere mention of you made him-"

Mycroft blinked slowly. "Keep pressing me, brother, and I _will_."

Sherlock rose and went to the door, pausing before he left. "He's incredibly lonely. You'd be good for him if you could swallow your pride and-"

" _OUT!_ "

With a smirk, Sherlock slipped from the room, already planning and scheming. He'd get his brother to see some bloody sense.

Mycroft sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. _Why_ must he be such a mother's boy that he must invariably deal with this sort of thing _every_ time he and Sherlock were over to visit at the same time?

Ensconcing himself in his room, Sherlock began his work to tease and belittle his brother, all the while thinking about how to bring Mycroft and the Headmaster together. _Anything_ was better than thinking about _her..._

oOoOo

Molly sighed as she perused the stacks of her favorite bookstore. The smell of the ink and the paper were comforting to her as they always were, especially given the events of the last week or two. Her brain needed some sorting out, so she found herself here, almost without realizing where she had gone. She picked up a large tome on wars gone by, leafed through a few pages, then set it down, wrinkling her nose. Not her cuppa. She found an equally large book not too far away, one on comparing the works of Shakespeare to their modern movie adaptations. She smiled softly to herself as she bent over the pages, flipping them delicately.

"Need to find it...here somewhere," Sherlock muttered, searching the store for a book he'd seen there previously. All part of his plot to bring his brother and _her_ father together so they could stop being obvious and just kiss already. He knew it was here somewhere until he swept past an aisle and saw...

"Bit not good."

He continued past, turning up his collar and ducking down another row, his quest for the book nearly forgotten as he struggled to regain control. Molly caught a bit of movement out of the corner of her eye and turned just in time to catch the edge of a long, dark coat flap past. _What_?  It couldn't be _him_...She hadn't stopped thinking about him since their kisses in his office, and she had come here to distract herself as well. Molly decided to investigate, tucking the book under her arm as she followed the tall, black-coated figure around the bookshelves.

He had managed to get his breathing under control and was ready to start up his search when he turned and there she was. _Oh fuck_...

 

Her eyes went wide. "It _is_ you," she said, her eyes sparkling, breaking into a wide grin. "I... uh... were your holidays ah... good? I mean, Christmas and New Year's..." she stammered, flushing as she realized that this was the first time they had unintentionally met outside of a school setting. She also damned her poor choice in words, but she couldn't help but get tongue-tied around him.

"Yes, it is me, I suppose. Unless I've turned into my brother in which case you'll have to put me out of my misery."

She laughed out loud. "You are most certainly _not_ your brother," she said solemnly, her eyes still twinkling with mirth.

"Well, good. I'm actually here looking for something for him. What are you up to?" he asked, doing the polite thing even though he already knew the answer.

She held up the book she had been leafing through. "A bit of a distraction," she said. "What are you looking for?"

"He's being a daft git and won't acknowledge his feelings, not that I'm surprised. He was always a bit stunted. Thought if I could just find the book..." he muttered, casting his glance around at the section they were in.

"You might want to try the relationships section... we're in religion right now, and I don't think that would be particularly sound advice for what you're looking for," she said. "Come on!" she took his arm and led him away. He fought the urge to pull away or shudder as she touched him, his eyes darting everywhere in case they were spotted by someone they knew.

Molly found the section with ease and started perusing the stacks of books to, hopefully, aid him. She picked up one book that just so happened to be one full of sex positions and nearly dropped it with a squeak, her face red as a rose as she hastily returned it. She redoubled her search, fervently hoping that she wouldn't run across any more books like that when Sherlock was with her. The young professor gave no indication he'd seen what she's dropped, but his eyes did crinkle slightly. _Even more shy than I'd thought_. He browsed the shelf before selecting a volume. "This one might work."

"'How To Win Your Man in 10 Easy Steps'?" she read aloud, raising an eyebrow. She started chuckling. "That's hilarious! D'you think it'll work, or will it just make him laugh?"

"I'm not expecting him to even take it seriously. I pushed him a bit too far the other day, and he's threatening me, and I want revenge. I plan to take it before he leaves to go back to Italy."

"Good luck with that," she said, half-smiling. She looked carefully around them and moved a hand down to hold his, their fingers interlacing.

He glanced down and squeezed her hand gently. "Bit of a risk, this. In broad daylight."

"Life is risk-taking," she said cheekily giving his hand a squeeze.

"If we're _caught_ -"

Molly sighed. "I know," she said softly. "Careful."

"The last thing I would want is to see you hurt. I don't want to be the one to do that to you."

She smiled into his face. "I know you wouldn't."

He glanced around and bit his lip. "Come on," he whispered, pulling her deeper into the store. She followed, wondering just what he had in mind, giddy with anticipation. Past the cookbooks, the baby books, the manga, and the graphic novels to the dusty and rarely perused rare book section where only the most dedicated bibliophiles went.

"We probably have five minutes before an employee comes this way, and we are hidden from the store's cameras," he whispered into her ear before tentatively stroking her cheek with one pale finger. Molly shivered and bit her lower lip as he whispered into her ear and touched her face. She turned her head and managed to press a kiss to his finger on her cheek.

Sherlock stopped breathing, tilting his head as he observed and stored the information. In the half light of the store surrounded by old books, this was how he seemed to want to remember Molly Hooper, this clever girl that had somehow stolen his heart away. She tentatively reached up and cupped his face in her hands, feeling the texture of his pale skin, softly rubbing her thumbs across his cheekbones before she stood on her tiptoes and pressed an almost-chaste kiss to his mouth.

 _Almost innocent, she does seem to enjoy testing me_ , he thought. Leaning to put less strain on her feet, Sherlock kissed her back. He rested on hand at the nape of her neck and the other on her cheek, mimicking her motions on his own face. Her breath left her in a half-gasp as she felt his hand curl around the nape of her neck and the other on her cheek. She moved her own hands, one moving down to clutch at the lapel of his great, dark coat, the other to just barely brush his hair.

Sherlock felt his knees start to buckle. _Why_ was her hand in his hair so wonderful. Unable to sustain it, he broke the kiss and sank to his knees, pressing his face into her stomach as her hand continued to pet his head. Molly went still for a moment as his knees seemed to give way and he rested his head on her, right on her stomach, almost underneath her breasts. After the brief pause of confusion and sudden panic, she hesitantly continued. She wound her hands through those dark, glossy curls, reveling in the texture of it between her fingers and the feeling of his body heat against her. He was trembling, fingers shaking, body heating. " _Molly_ ," he breathed, almost a moan and a whimper.

The girl swallowed hard and clutched a little tighter out of reflex. She felt the room grow suddenly very warm, and everything seemed to become almost over-bright as he breathed her name with a sigh, a moan, a whimper. "Sherlock..." she murmured back, hardly above a whisper herself.

"I can barely think... I feel like my brain is shutting down..."

"Same," she said, feeling his voice rumble through her, causing her to shiver in pleasure. Giving in to the urge, she bent and kissed him again, with less restraint this time. Now he was the shorter one, tilting upwards to kiss her hard, tasting her tongue and teeth, the remnants of her doughnut and coffee from breakfast. He tasted of coffee (black, from the way the flavor was so strong... one or two sugars, for the underlying sweetness of it), and she couldn't help but give an almost-whimper as his tongue met hers, kissing her as hard as she had kissed him.

He swallowed hard as he pulled away, his face flushed and hair hopelessly mussed. "Jesus Christ..."

Molly was taking quicker breaths than usual and she nodded, her brain unable to formulate a coherent response to him. She felt as if she wanted to devour him, to feel the line of his body pressed against hers, to have him hold her, make him feel the way he made her head grow muzzy and her body hot.

"I can't breathe... can't think... oh God, Molly..."

"Then don't _think_ ," she murmured, bending for another kiss.

He kissed her hungrily, taking all he could as he pulled her down to the floor. She made a soft noise as he _took_ a kiss, stole it from her just as much as she had stolen one from him. Finally, he pulled her down to kneel in front of him as well, and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer to her, feeling her heart hammer inside her chest, wondering if he could feel it against his.

They were pulsing together, heartbeats melding and he was trying to figure out what to do next when he heard footsteps. He broke the kiss and yanked them both to their feet. "Coffee shop three blocks south in fifteen minutes," he whispered before disappearing through the shelves.

Molly was trying to figure out just what had happened as she watched him vanish. Another person walked into the area where they had been kneeling not two moments after he stood them both up. She wandered around the shelves for fifteen minutes, pacing and edgy before leaving the store and quickly making her way to the coffee shop.

He held out a coffee to her as she met him outside in the cold. "Follow me."

She took the drink and followed, watching his back as his longer legs kept him striding easily ahead of her. He led her down a few streets before coming into a secluded alley. "Ten minutes before the chance of being discovered," he remarked.

She carefully set the hot beverage down and looked at him. "Best make the most of it, then," she said, one corner of her mouth quirking upwards into an almost wicked smile.

He was on her in seconds, pressing her back against the wall and claiming her mouth. Surrounded by her scent, her feel, her _damned hands in his hair_! He broke the kiss, staring wildly into her eyes. She made a surprised noise as he claimed her mouth roughly, hardly feeling it when her back hit the rough brick wall of the alleyway. She surrendered into the kiss, her hands finding his hair once more. He broke the embrace, his eyes wide and wild, staring into hers. She was panting, her breath curling in wisps of steam and fog in the chill air. "What? Did I do something wrong?" she asked, feeling a little anxious.

"Can't... concentrate... or... think... fingers... in... my... hair."

Her eyebrows went up. She knew he liked it, but didn't know he liked it _that_ much. Feeling decidedly bold and wanting to test her limits, she brushed her fingertips lightly along his scalp, running them along the contours of his skull, behind his ears and tracing down the back of his neck to along the edges of his collarbones to rest at the hollow of his throat. Sherlock gasped, his eyes rolling back into his head. "OhmygodMolly _please_ -"

"Please _what_? I don't know if you don't tell me..." she murmured, feeling giddy at watching him unravel, even just a little.

"Can't... don't know...  _more_..."

She shuddered, feeling every nerve going alight. She wrapped her arms around him, under his coat and tilted her head up to press swift kisses to the bare skin of his neck, feeling his pulse pound against her lips.

"Hanh... ohdearlord... ohpleasedon'tstop..."

Molly gasped against his skin as he pleaded with her, the words zinging along her spine to set a fire in her lower belly. She repeated her actions, this time trailing up his jawbone to press kisses to the corner of his mouth, avoiding his lips. He'd never felt anything akin to this in his entire life; even Shakespeare had nothing on this. He turned his head towards her mouth but she evaded. "Stop teasing..."

She breathed a laugh into his skin as she avoided his lips. "Why?"

"Because if you don't, I'll take what I want," he growled, his mind clearing.

Her eyes went wide and dark and she bit her lower lip. Playing with fire, she'd get burned, but..."Do it, then," she murmured, a hairsbreadth away from his mouth.

The sound in his throat wasn't completely human as he surged up against her mouth, nipping and sucking and biting gently as he stole kiss after kiss, pinning her hands to the wall so she couldn't disarm him with her clever fingers. She nearly melted as he gave a growl that put her in mind of something hunting before he took her lips with his own. She gasped as he added his teeth, no pauses or breaks for breath, just kiss after kiss after kiss. Her wrists were pinned to the wall by his huge, clever hands and she arched into him, nipping his lip in return.

Relieved that his mind was finally clear and he could think again, Sherlock changed his pace, slowing the kisses down until they were positively smoldering, his ears all the while listening for warnings of being discovered. Molly's breath sobbed in her throat as his kisses went from wild to _hot_ , slowed down and full of intensity that was concentrated all on _her_. When he gave her a very brief reprieve for air, she gasped out "Ah... Sh- _Sherlock_...!" her voice half between a moan and a plea.

"Yes, Ophelia?" he purred before trailing his lips down to the hollow of her throat, undoing her scarf with his teeth to kiss the warm skin there.

She made a plaintive keening noise as he undid the scarf at her neck with his teeth, trailing his lips down to the hollow of her throat. She threw her head back. "G- _God_. Need you..." she said, not caring that she sounded wanton. She felt like she was on fire, and him feeding the flames wasn't helping much.

Sherlock slowed to a stop and pulled away, shivering at the sudden feeling of the bitter chill on his flushed skin. The sudden cold snapped Molly back to herself, panting, mussed and flushed. She looked at him, question in her eyes as he still held her wrists pinned to the wall. He let her go and stepped back.

She nearly reached out to him. She felt apprehension well up in her throat. She must have said or done something wrong...now he was going to leave her and never bother her again... "I... ah... I'm sorry..." she finally said, feeling decidedly miserable at that thought.

"I'm not ready for that," he said quietly, his face burning.

She processed what he said for a moment and her eyes went wide. "Oh my _God_! I am _so_ sorry!! No, I wasn't... I didn't mean... I'm _sorry_..." she said, now feeling even worse. She felt like she wanted the earth to swallow her up.

He blushed an even deeper crimson, reaching out to touch her arm. "Please don't apologize, you didn't' know."

She nodded miserably, allowing her head to fall back and thump against the brick wall, looking up into the steely London sky. She _would_ go and foul it up, make him feel uncomfortable. She felt horrid.

"Molly," He whispered, glancing down the alley before enveloping her in a warm hug. "Please don't feel bad or I'll go out of my mind with worry."

She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. "I just... I feel horrible for making you feel bad, or rushed. I didn't mean-" she said, muffled from where it was against his skin.

" _You didn't know_. The only other person who knows aside from Mycroft and Mummy and now you is John. It's not information that I make terribly public."

Molly held him tighter against her, taking in his scent. She nodded and let her eyes close, feeling the guilt and shame ebb away to be replaced by a warm glow that emanated around the area of her breastbone. She hummed in content at the mere fact that he was holding her as well.

With a final squeeze, he released her. "You should get home, and I have to finish my prank on Mycroft. Is there a way I can contact you without exchanging numbers? My brother has a terrible habit of monitoring my mobile."

She chuckled softly. "We could always be old-fashioned and leave letters or notes..." she suggested.

"But where? This isn't exactly condoned or even legal, I don't think, what we're doing."

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. That _was_ true. Then she had an idea. "Isn't there a hollow in the old willow? And signing our given names is idiotic. So... ah... since I'm your Ophelia... you're my Hamlet?"

"That will work wonderfully when we return to school, but what in the meantime? If- if I wanted to see you again before the semester starts?" He tightened his scarf slightly, feeling his face burn.

She felt her heartbeat ratchet up again. "The park near here..." she finally said, slightly breathless. "There are woods there, paths that don't get used much, especially during the winter. I was on this one path every day for a week last year, and I never saw a soul."

"Then on the next to last day of our break, I will meet you there mid-afternoon."

She nodded and pressed her lips to his, chastely, sealing the promise with a kiss. "Deal," she said.

"Until then, sweet Ophelia," he murmured as he turned to go.

"Until then, my prince..." she said, equally as soft, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1)- Act I, Scene v in Romeo and Juliet


	3. Will You...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set the same day as Chapter 2, John and Mary are out on this chilly January day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...suppose there should be an extreme fluff warning for the end of this chapter. :) Don't judge. We're both hopeless romantics. ;)

John knew he had a big, sappy grin on his face, but he couldn't be bothered to get rid of it. Walking next to him was, well, the woman he thought he might be ready to call the love of his life as they strolled down the busy street towards this little coffee shop he knew. Mary could tell that John was happy, if that nearly stupid-looking grin was any indication. She was wearing one that matched as the strolled along the sidewalk, hand-in-hand. "I'm so glad that you were able to get away from grading papers and getting curriculum ready for next semester for this," she said as they neared the small coffee shop. She'd never been there, but it looked homey enough.

"You have no idea," John replied, squeezing her hand. "Lesson plans are going to be the death of me."

"Which is why I'm glad I'm a nurse. Just have to make sure that I'm stocked up on aspirin and condoms," she said, cheekily. They stepped into the coffee shop, the cheery bell over the door announcing their arrival with a tinkle. "Ooh, it's good to get out of the cold," she said, rubbing her hands together and wrinkling her now-red nose, using the temperature as an excuse to get closer to John.

Wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close, John smirked at her and kissed the tip of her chilled nose, breathing on it gently. "Better?"

She shivered in pleasure. "Much," she murmured, wrapping her arms around him as well.

"Now, what would you like to drink?" he murmured, gesturing to the counter.

She thought as she perused the menu. "Call me silly and childish, but... hot cocoa," she said, smiling somewhat sheepishly.

"Make that two," John said, digging out his wallet and handing over a fiver.

The hot cocoa was brought out quickly enough, with generous amounts of whipped cream and a dash of cinnamon dusting the top. She took it and sighed happily as the heat from the drink seeped into her hands. "If it feels this good just holding it, guess it'll feel even better drinking it," she said.

John choked on his cocoa, spluttering as some of the hot chocolate trickled down his throat. " _Well_ then..."

She looked at him quizzically, then replayed what she had just said. Her eyes went wide and she flushed brightly. "Oh my _god_..." she said, covering her face in her hands. "That... I wasn't trying to... you _bad_ man!" she said, removing her hands and lightly hitting him in the arm. Then she took a look at him and started laughing. "You have cocoa on your chin..." she said, leaning in to wipe it off with a napkin.

He giggled and let her mop his face off. "I'm sure I do. I can feel it cooling," he replied, eyes twinkling as he looked at her.

" _Men_..." she huffed, but smiled to show that she wasn't annoyed. "Made a right tit of myself there, didn't I," she said, starting to laugh again.

"Yeah, you did a bit. I don't mind though."

She snorted and leaned in to steal a quick kiss. "Well, seeing as I haven't scared you off yet, I guess you really don't."

He savored the brush of her lips, grinning as he drank his cocoa slowly. "You know, this is one of the best drinks, sweet and warm as it goes down, and it's different depending on who makes it..."

Now it was her turn to choke and splutter on her cocoa. "John Watson! If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you are deliberately trying to fluster me," she said after she got herself under control.

He chuckled quietly, dabbing at the corner of her mouth with his napkin. "I've always had a bit of a reputation, you know."

She raised one eyebrow. "So I've heard... John "Three Continents" Watson..." she said, curling her lips into a smirk. She didn't really care that she wasn't the first. He wasn't hers either. They both had loved and lost, and it had made them better people all around.

He blushed crimson. "How could you possibly know that name? Have you been talking to Sherlock?"

"Actually, another mutual friend. Mike Stamford... was a drinking buddy of mine in medical school. Sorta hero-worshipped you," she said, taking another sip of cocoa. Seeing that he was embarrassed, she set her cup down and took his hands in hers. "I really don't mind, John. It's in the past, and we have the future. And even if I'm not the _one_ , per se, I'll never regret the time I've spent with you."

Before he could ask the obvious question of how Mike was doing, John turned another shade of red at Mary's words, deeply touched. "I've been thinking more and more lately that you might be."

Her eyes went wide and she made a sort of strangled noise before she got herself under control. "Same..." she said quietly, squeezing his hands. "I...I've never felt so comfortable with anyone before and... oh god, this is going to sound clingy and trite and possibly scary, but... I can really see myself growing old with you."

"Grey hair, looking for my glasses, cursing my joints..."

She smiled, her eyes a little watery. "Me helping you find your glasses, not caring about your gray hair, making you put your feet up when your joints hurt too much..."

He finished his cocoa before raising his fingertips to her face. "You're so beautiful, Mary."

She caught his hand and pressed a kiss into his palm. "As are you. Well, handsome. Lovely. A lovely person, all the way through. That's what you are, John."

"Well, they say that lovers reflect the best in each other which would mean you are just as loving and gentle and caring as you make me out to be," he replied. She smiled and looked down into her drink, slightly embarrassed. She finished her cocoa and held his hand and they simply sat there for a long, quiet moment, the silence comfortable.

"If you're finished, why don't we get out of here for a while?"

"That sounds like a good plan," she said. They walked out of the coffee shop and rounded the corner when she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure: tall, dark curly hair, long black coat. "John? I think that's Sherlock over there!" she said, peering through the crowd.

"Well I'll be damned. Oi, Sherlock!"

The man stopped and turned, recognizing the speaker and making his way back through the throng. "Hello John. Ah... Mary, yes?"

"Right in one. Nice to finally actually meet you. John's told me about your various escapades. I think the murder 'case' was just _brilliant_ ," she said, beaming, her eyes flashing somewhat cheekily.

Sherlock glared at his friend "I'm assuming you are referring to the prank you and your friends managed to pull?"

John snickered. "Guilty as charged. You have to admit, it _was_ funny..."

Sherlock just shook his head. "To you and your mates perhaps-"

"Oh, lighten up, Sherlock!" John said, beaming. He was always a bit happier when he was around Mary, and it was clearly showing. She looked her boyfriend's best friend up and down. "Maybe you should listen to him. You always seem so serious," she said, almost thoughtfully.

"I take my work very seriously," he replied, glancing down at the book in his bag. He was trying not to think about Molly's lips on his or how embarrassed he'd just been, thankful that the cold air gave him excuse for color in his pale face. "I'm going to prank Mycroft before he returns to Italy," he said, turning back to John.

The blonde's eyebrows went up. "Again? You know that never works..." he said, thinking back on the failed attempts that he had been roped into.

"Oh, but this time it will. Little, subtle hints, or not so subtle, since he's far too stubborn and proud to admit he needs help," Sherlock replied, a gleam in his eye as he showed John the book he'd purchased.

"Reminds me of someone else I know..." John murmured drily as he looked at the book. Then he started laughing when he saw the title. "'How To Win Your Man in 10 Easy Steps'? Oh my _God_. You're horrid!" he said between chuckles.

"Perhaps I am, but he started it."

John snorted. "My best friend, Sherlock Holmes: genius, professor, five-year-old."

"Oi! You aren't much better yourself, Three-Continents Army Doctor turned Professor Watson. As I recall, it was _your_ idea to dump sneezing power in all of the musical instruments our second year."

Mary raised her eyebrows. "Well, looks like you pair were quite the hellions in your Uni days..." she said, smirking.

John flushed. "I had forgotten about that one," he said a bit sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Really? I'm surprised at you, John. You've never been more proud of a prank that made the entire band look like it had been doused in cocaine."

"Still proudest of that 'murder', though," he said, grinning at Sherlock.

"Oh give over. Yes, all right, you got me. Happy?" His voice wasn't upset and that gleam was still in his eye.

"Blissfully so," he chuckled, wrapping an arm around Mary's waist.

"So, John, when are you going to ask her?"

John turned an interesting shade of red mixed with purple. " _SHERLOCK_! We've only been dating for two months, that'd be moving a bit quick..." he spluttered.

Mary laughed and held John tighter to her. "I can wait as long as he needs. Even if it's for forever," she told him.

"Oh, Mary, Mary, Mary, I can see I've spoiled his plans. He was going to ask you to move in with him before the end of break, possibly today by the glare he's giving me right now, although I would imagine that he thought I was referring to his thoughts of asking you to marry him which should come up again in six months to a year's time, maybe after the school year gets out, possibly thinking of a summer wedding for your dark haired bride, John?"

John closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. "Remind me...  _why_ haven't I chinned you yet?"

"Because, John, you are my only friend, and you are saving your fist for when it would actually mean I'd upset you terribly."

Mary's eyes went wide. She blinked, then looked from the smug English professor back to her doctor and back again. She took a deep breath. "I was wondering when you'd ask," she said to John, gently, smiling. "And the answer is 'yes of course'."

John looked back to Mary, the frustration melting from his face as it was replaced with something akin to joy and shyness. "I- ah- well then-"

Mary, in response to his hedging, grabbed him and kissed him soundly, not caring that they were on the sidewalk.

Sherlock glanced away as the couple kissed...and kissed...and kissed, John pulling the smaller woman close and appearing to try and eat her tongue. Sherlock did his best to banish the thoughts of his attempts to do the same to Molly. "I'll leave you to it then. Lovely to see you, Mary, John."

There was no reply from the happy couple, who, indeed, didn't notice that Sherlock had left. When they _finally_ broke for air, Mary leaned her forehead on John's and said "Shall we go back to yours and snog on the sofa...?"

"If you'd like. Trying to move me along now, are you?" the doctor teased as they made their way back to his place.

"Mayyyybe," she sing-songed as they quickly made their way to his flat, up the stairs and through the door. He had barely closed it behind him before she kissed him again, wrapping her arms around his neck and winding her fingers through his sandy blonde hair.

He started laughing into her mouth, gently breaking her grip. "Mind if I take my coat off first?" he murmured

She flushed. "Oops... sorry," she said. She took off her coat as well, undoing the buttons one at a time and unwinding the scarf from around her neck.

He hung up their coats and scarves before bringing his fingers up to the tips of her ear and rubbing them gently to warm them. "I'd have needed to sick you in front of a fire to thaw you out if we'd been outside for much longer."

She laughed. "Yeah, you'd have a popsicle, not a girlfriend," she said, resting her forehead against his. She sighed, contented. "So... was he right?"

"It was Sherlock. Of course he was right. Stupid git. I was going to ask you over dinner, but, cat's out of the bag now."

She grinned, blinding in her joy. "And my answer is still the same. Yes. Of course I will."

John' hands cupped her face and then he was kissing her. "I'm" kiss "so" kiss " _glad_."

Mary kissed him back, repeating the action of winding her arms around his neck, his lips still cold from being outside, but warming under hers, just as she was sure hers were doing. John steered them both to the sofa where he pulled them both down, Mary half on his lap as he held her close.

She made a little noise of surprise as they were suddenly on the sofa, but she wasn't complaining when he pressed her to him. She maneuvered herself so she was as close to him as she possibly could be; in this case, it was almost straddling his lap. She darted out her tongue to flick against his lower lip.

He growled softly. "Such a forward woman, aren't you?" he murmured, threading his hands through the dark hair at her temples.

"Only with you," she said back before kissing him again. She was so happy that she felt so loved by this man, and she was now certain, without a doubt, that she loved him.

After a few more moments he broke the kiss to meet her gaze, doing his best not to get distracted by her mouth. "I love you, Mary."

She halted her actions, staring back at him. "Say it again...?" she murmured.

"I. Love. You." He was completely serious with the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. " _You_ , Mary Morstan. I love _you_."

Mary swallowed hard, sudden tears pricking her eyes. "And, John Watson, I. Love. You. I love you, I love you, _I love you_."

He knew he was beaming as he wiped tears from her eyes. "Move in with me."

"Yes."

John's eyes lit up. "Live with me, love with me, share my bed, everything."

She clutched him to her, not kissing him, just holding him, feeling his heart beating against her. "Yes, John. _Yes_. Everything," she said. "And... I..." she paused, trying to think of how to put into words her overflowing mind and heart. "I hope... that you'll let me share with you what I have. My life, my love, my heart. My body. My soul. My all."

The doctor nodded, brushing her bangs from her eyes before hugging her gently. " _Yes_ ," he whispered in her ear. She buried her face into his neck and trembled with joy, taking in his scent and the heat of his skin. She felt like her heart would beat its way out of her chest.

John rubbed circles on her back, breathing in her scent and shampoo and the barest hint of perfume, the one he recognized as the flavor she kept with her things in his bathroom from her nights spent over. Humming a tune from his childhood, he reveled in being close with this woman, this amazing, beautiful, clever, funny person that he was crazy for.

Mary smiled into him as she felt the vibration of his humming thrum through his chest and into her. She recognized the tune, an old Irish folk song and, waiting a bit, she joined in with the harmony.

John closed his eyes as she leant her voice to the tune. "I dreamed last night that my young love came in, He came in so sweetly, his feet made no din; He stepped close beside me, and this he did say, 'It will not be long love, till our wedding day'." (1)

Mary felt a shiver of delight go through her. "'It will not be long love, 'till our wedding day,'" she sang along with him, grinning, staring into his eyes. She loved this man so much that it felt as if she was drowning in it.

He knew he was blushing and he didn't care. "Our wedding day," he repeated, slightly in awe. He'd never thought he'd actually find the right person to settle down with, but _now_... now that really seemed like it would happen...

She bent and she kissed him slowly. "You know, I wouldn't even care if we didn't get married. Just... and I know this may sound trite and like it's out of some horrible 80's romance movie, but... as long as I have you, I'll be happy," she murmured.

"I think that I could say the exact same, Mary."

"Good. That's all I need."

"Then I think I shall take a kiss from you as a promise, Miss Morstan," he whispered, smirking slightly.

"And I'll give it to you, gladly," she said, before kissing him, pouring out her feelings for him, sealing their promise.


	4. All's Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gives Mycroft his present, and the young professor meets Molly in the woods the following day.

Two days before Mycroft's return to Italy and his own return to teaching, Sherlock threw a party. It was a small one, just for him and Mycroft and Mummy, but he had a few gifts for his brother in this one. His own birthday had been a short affair earlier that month, his favorite gift a leather-bound set of the entirety of Shakespeare's works from his mother and an ornate dagger letter opener from John with the note "Is this a dagger I see before me? For all of your correspondences or for papers that need shredding. -Horatio" But what he had planned for Mycroft was more of the tongue in cheek 'how much can I annoy my brother before he snaps' variety.

Mycroft eyed the smartly-wrapped package before him with trepidation. It was to him from Sherlock which always warranted a wary eye. It could blow up in his face or eat his shoes or sing some shrill, annoying tune that would invariably get stuck in his head, knowing his _beloved_ little brother. He was more than half tempted to bin the gift without even opening it, but Mummy was there, and she'd disapprove. He checked the tag.

" _To Mycroft- Hoping that this helps. All is fair in love and in war. -Sherlock_

Mycroft glowered at the message and tore open the paper. He blinked as he looked at the gayly-colored book, and his expression grew thunderous. "Thank you, Sherlock," he said through gritted teeth, "for the...  _thoughtful_ gift." 'How To Win Your Man in 10 Easy Steps'... more like 'How To Commit Fratricide Without Getting Caught: A Modern Dilemma'.

Sherlock beamed at him. "I thought you'd find it incredibly useful, dear brother."

Mycroft was trying very, _very_ hard to keep his temper. "Yes, I think I shall," he said, visualizing himself taking the book to his little brother's thick skull.

"I was walking through the store thinking about your issue and it just...  _jumped off the shelf_ at me," Sherlock replied, rising. "Shall I fetch dessert? It's your favorite."

Mycroft took a deep breath. "No, thank you. I have to excuse myself and pack. Thank you, Mummy, for the wonderful stay. And... Sherlock, thank you for the...pleasure of your company," he said, making sure that his tone clearly said that he'd find discussing 'Twilight' with an overly-hormonal fourteen-year-old girl more appealing than spending time with his brother.

Excusing himself from the table and from Mummy who looked suspiciously at her two retreating sons, Sherlock followed his older brother back to his room and stood in the doorway.

"You'd best be thankful that Mummy was here, or you'd have found yourself on the receiving end of severe blunt force trauma," hissed Mycroft as he glared at Sherlock who was leaning against his door frame, smirking infuriatingly.

"And why would that be the case? I thought you'd enjoy my little nudge to get your life straightened out. You do it often enough with me."

Mycroft seethed silently. As much as he loathed to admit it, Sherlock did have a point. He had the habit of giving advice to his little brother, whether he needed it or not.

"I take your silence as assent. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you chose now to start picking your battles, am I right?"

"With age comes wisdom, brother dear. And I guess that means you've finally decided to start pursuing the fairer sex? Love _is_ a battlefield, after all, and you came away with some wounds from your... skirmish earlier in my stay here. I noticed, of course. Swollen lips, overly bright eyes, and... hair all mussed. She likes playing with it, does she?" Mycroft shot back. He could dish it out as well as Sherlock could, lest his brother forget.

Sherlock's mouth became a very thin white line the longer his brother spoke. "You wouldn't even know what it is to be kissed, to have fingers running through and pulling your hair, now would you? You may be my _wiser_ older brother, but let's face it, I actually have more experience than _you_ in something."

"Yes, but you have to wonder if _she_ has more experience than _you_. And then you have to figure out what she sees in you. She's younger than you, shorter in stature, and has long brown hair. You met for coffee that day... a quick snog in an alley, was it?"

"Take. It. Back." Sherlock's voice was barely a whisper, not even wanting to go where his thoughts were taking him, to Jim and Molly. Had the boy been her first? Certainly the most violent considering her peaceful upbringing, but he hadn't beaten her, at least not visibly, not until the marks on her throat.

Why should I? After all, you're so keen on _helping_ me with _my_ love life, why shouldn't I return the favor?"

"Because mine is just fine, you overgrown twat."

Mycroft snorted derisively. "Resorting to name-calling now? Ever the child, Sherlock. Now leave, I have to pack."

"I will not leave. It's my house too Mycroft."

"Yes, but this is _my_ room. Now sod off." And with that, Mycroft crossed to the door and shut it in Sherlock's face, ending the conversation with the quiet finality of the lock clicking home.

"Utter prat, who the hell does he think he is?" Sherlock muttered as he made his way back to his room and slammed the door before throwing himself onto his untidy bed. He sighed before curling up into a tight ball and thinking about Molly, nervous suddenly to see her the next day. What if Mycroft followed him? What if they were seen?

Mycroft glared at the closed door before sighing heavily and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He wished, futilely, for the days when they were both children, when they got along, playing pirates in the garden. But those days had long been gone, and they had both grown into cold, bitter men. "And where does that leave us now?" he murmured to himself. He looked at the book and, for a brief moment, allowed himself to hope.

oOoOo

Sherlock made his way to the woods with some trepidation the next day, checking over his shoulder for any sign of being followed and doubling back and around several times to make sure he would lose anyone who happened to be, just in case

Molly made her way into the woods, stopping every once in a while to listen for footsteps behind her. When she was satisfied that the only thing following her was her shadow (and, for a while, a curious squirrel), she continued on down the path, her feet marking the new-fallen snow.

Sherlock found a nice crossroads in the path and stood there fidgeting, wrapping his scarf a little tighter against the chill air. She squinted in the bright winter sunlight, nearly starting when she saw him standing at the crossroads. She recalled something she had read once, about things that waited in crossroads for unsuspecting travelers to deal with them, but she pushed it out of her head. This was her prince, her Hamlet. She smiled, warmed by the memory of his kisses, and sped her pace to meet him.

He heard her footsteps first, too loud in the chill yet peaceful silence of the woods. "Ophelia," he whispered, his words practically visible in the winter air.

She didn't stop until she was right in front of him, her cheeks and the tip of her nose red with the cold, her eyes bright, a smile on her lips. "Hamlet," she murmured back, the smoke of her breath curling from her mouth in twisting patterns, twining in the air like lovers.

"I feared you had forgotten, that I was followed, that you wouldn't come, that I'd been foolish."

She bit her lip. "I'd never forget, and you are _anything_ but foolish. And... I was afraid that you would have seen sense, left me here to wait. That you'd go back to just being my professor. That I'd be your Ophelia no more."

"The thought did cross my mind, for safety's sake. It's very dangerous what we're doing here. Extremely so."

"And yet, here we are..."

His pointer finger brushed the side of her face and down her jaw. "My brother was able to tell I'd seen someone, that I'd been kissed hard and well, quite thoroughly snogged, actually. He's getting a little close to comfort in his observations."

She closed her eyes at his touch, the feel of it making it hard for her to pay attention to his words. "I guess... we'll have to be ah... more careful, then..." she said, trying hard to focus.

"That's just the problem. You quite completely destroy any chance I have at being careful. I fought with Mycroft yesterday, and he made some snide remark about my partner having more experience than me. The thought of you with Jim made me nearly ill. It was all I could do not to punch my pompous brother right in the nose."

 _Oh_. That snapped her back to herself, making the chill of the air seem to seep right down to her bones. She felt slightly sick. She had been carefully avoiding the topic of Jim for the duration of the break, the bruises around her neck fading nicely. "I... I'm sorry," she said, not even sure what she was apologizing for.

"I suppose I should take it as a warning to stay away, but I'm not so sure that's even possible anymore." He took a step closer to her, glancing down the various paths before resting one hand at the base of her spine and the other at the nape of her neck. Molly felt her breath stutter in her throat as his hands rested on her; she wound her arms around him as well, around his neck, simply standing in the circle of his arms.

"I've fallen in love with you, my fair Ophelia, my clever Molly Hooper. And I don't know if I'll ever fall back out of it again."

Her eyes went wide. "Oh, my sweet prince..." she said, hardly able to believe those words had left his lips. "My... my _Sherlock_. I've fallen in love with you too, ever since you asked what I was reading and didn't treat me nicely just because my father's the headmaster. Ever since you lay your head in my lap," she said, flushing more than could be attributed to the winter's chill.

"Well, you were the one to start combing my hair with your fingers, you naughty girl."

She smirked. "And I still don't regret it."

He dipped his head in for a gentle kiss, just a brush of lips. "I can't help but feel we're being watched. You know how difficult this will be once the semester resumes."

She nodded, brushing her lips back against his before speaking. "I can be patient. Or try to be," she murmured.

"Then we shall try. The last thing I would want to do is hurt you, Molly, but I _will_ do what I have to in order to keep you safe."

"I trust you," she said, moving slightly closer.

"Perhaps not the wisest of moves," Sherlock whispered, "but I shall try not to disappoint." With that, he connected his lips hers and the world fell away.


	5. On The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last day of break, and Seb wants to take Jim on his first 'hunting' trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence warning. And it's Jim and Seb, so expect smut with a dash of angst.

It was about three-thirty in the morning on the last day of winter break; the world was still dark, everyone was still abed... except Sebastian Moran, who was already awake. He quietly opened the door that joined his and Jim's rooms and crept up onto the bed, gently nudging the sleeping boy who was sprawled out in the middle of the large mattress. "Jim...  _Jim_..." he hissed, with another prod, eyes large in his face. "Wake up."

Something poked him, and he was wide awake, hissing like a provoked animal as he pounced on his waker. Seb rolled with his lover as he pounced, his momentum carrying them so Jim was pinned underneath the blonde's larger frame. "Good. You're awake," he said, grinning, his teeth flashing white in the dimness. "Jim... how would you feel about a...  _hunting_ trip today?"

Jim struggled against stronger arms until his sleep fuzzed brain heard the words. His eyes adjusting to the dim light, he looked up and gave Seb his biggest puppy eyes. "Hunting? With me? Why Sebby, you shouldn't have."

Seb leaned down and rested his forehead against Jim's. "Of course I should have. Call it... practice. And a belated Christmas gift."

"I can think of something else I'd like as a late Christmas gift," the smaller boy purred, grinning up at his lover.

He chuckled. "Later, after this. Now, up and dressed. We have a long day ahead of us. Make sure you wear something both inconspicuous and crummy... don't want you getting caught. Or getting blood, bowel movements and viscera on any of your nice suits," he said, removing himself from Jim and bounding off to get ready himself. He always brought knives and a length of strong, thin wire with him when he went on trips... be prepared and all that.

Rolling lazily out of bed, Jim slowly made his way to his dresser, grabbing the appropriate undergarments before dragging the trunk of crap clothes out from under his bed, picking nondescript grey and black sweats and fingerless gloves along with a beat up pair of trainers that the servants seemed incapable of getting rid of. Seb was wearing a pair of beat-up dark jeans and a ratty hooded sweatshirt. He had leather gloves on, and a pair of old, worn combat boots that he always wore when out on a hunt. He never got caught; the tread was nearly worn off. Not like anyone cared much about his victims, anyway. He focused primarily on the homeless, the ones who wouldn't be missed.

Dressed and making sure his thermal shirt was on right, Jim pulled on his sweatshirt and ran his fingers through his bed head before going to check on Sebby. Seb was just about to go check on Jim when the door adjoining their rooms swung open. He took a quick scan of Jim's outfit and grinned. "Good, very good," he murmured. Then he walked over and gave him a hard, searching kiss. "Ready to hunt?" he asked.

Slightly dizzy from the lack of air, Jim stared up at Sebastian, his heart pounding in his chest. "After you, Tiger."

oOoOo

It was a surprisingly short trip to the heart of London from Jim's manor house. Seb led Jim to his favored hunting grounds; the slums and the projects. "Now... first rule of hunting: be unseen. Try and pick your prey without your prey noticing you. Silent and fast, soft and quick as shadows we must be," Seb said quietly to Jim as they loitered near the mouth of an alley.

"Soft, silent, unnoticed, invisible. Then what?" Despite all his precautions, Jim was already starting to shiver without his woolen coat and cashmere scarf.

"Then we follow. Dog their steps, try and herd them almost. A deserted alleyway usually works best. It takes hours to choose the proper prey and hours to follow them. Dead of night is when the deed is usually done. Since this is your first hunting trip, I'll let you choose your prey. I'll help you out with it, but the coup de grace will be yours."

"Thank you ever so much," the boy quipped, sticking numbing fingers into his armpits as he glanced down the alley. _Hours and hours? Oh, Tiger was going to have to thaw out the frozen block he'd be in if he had to be out much longer_.

"Don't worry, we won't be outside for the entire time. There's a coffee shop not too far from here where I stake out in the cold weather," Seb reassured Jim, smiling almost indulgently.

"Then get me there _now_ before I get frostbite, you fucking idiot," Jim grumbled

"Ah, ah, ah.. another important rule. You MUST keep your temper," Seb chided gently as he led the way to the little shop. "If you don't, you can blow your cover, and everything goes to shit."

"If I weren't t-t-t-turning into a Jim-cicle right now, I'd b-b-b-be k-k-k-k-keeping my t-t-temper."

Seb snickered. "Here, let me warm you up," he said. He made sure they were unobserved and he kissed Jim breathless, holding his hands in between his own palms.

Jim breathed in the other boy like pure oxygen, taking deep, frigid breaths in through his nose as Seb's fingers broke the frost on his fingertips. "Much better," he gasped when they broke apart. "Perfect cover, too. Boyfriends out before dawn to escape the disapproving families."

"Exactly," said Seb. "Now... coffee? And... ah, 'window shopping'," he finished with a grin.

"Why yes, I think I would enjoy that very much," Jim murmured, slipping his arm in the crook of Seb's elbow and leaning against him, playing for all the world, the part of the smitten younger boyfriend.

Seb snickered as he put his hand over Jim's where his hand was linked through his arm. The bell in the coffee ship rang dully as they walked through the door. "Two coffees. Black," he said to the tired and bored looking man behind the counter.

"Extra chocolate in his, caramel in mine," Jim amended, gazing up at Seb with gooey eyes.

Seb looked at Jim, the man behind the counter looked at Jim. And they both started laughing. "Jim, this isn't Starbucks," he said, once he had control of his mirth. "It's black or nothing here."

"Fine then, spoilsport. I'll get us window seats."

"Good, I'll be along shortly." Seb paid for their drinks and took them as soon as they were ready, settling down in the chair and gazing out the window, watching the shuffling people pass.

Jim eagerly warmed his fingers against the cup before taking a sip and grimacing. "You actually drink this shit?" he whispered under his breath as his gaze slid over a few bums (very dull, not even worth the challenge.)

"An acquired taste. You learn to love it," Seb whispered back. A few bums had passed, and he dismissed them all. Too _easy_. They sat for two hours... three hours... four. As the fourth hour waned, he turned to Jim. "See anyone yet?" he murmured, keeping half an eye on the people who walked by.

"Shut up, I was almost back to sleep," Jim grumbled before * _there_ *. "Her. Now. Follow."

Seb picked up on the girl that Jim had chosen...an obvious druggie, from the way she twitched. She hadn't had a hit for hours, perhaps days from the way she was so strung out. She was paranoid; she kept glancing over her shoulder, her eyes shifting and darting. "Good eye," he murmured to Jim. "Let's go." They got up and walked out, making sure to be a good distance away from their intended target as they followed behind.

Jim could feel the adrenaline kicking his system into full gear, sharpening his senses and letting the general noise of waking London fall away. The girl's brown hair was tucked up under a cap with a few dirty tendrils framing her small face. She was easy to follow, the only one on the street twitching and glancing every which way. _Perhaps I could pose as a dealer_.

"Any ideas on how to close in? Dealer and his hired muscle?" Seb murmured quietly into his ear.

"I thought I was the 'mind reader'," Jim huffed but he was secretly pleased. "Well done," he whispered before darting forward. Seb grinned smugly, pleased with himself. He followed close behind as Jim closed in.

"Scuse me, miss? But I fink mah frend n' aye cood help yoo," Jim drawled softly as he drew level with the girl

The girl darted and twitched. "Yeah... could you? Don' fink you could, mate," she said, giggling half-madly. Then she looked harder. "Mebbe you could. You... you got stuff? Or you a narc?"

"Yoo betcha aye do. Me and me buddy here got da best in awl Lahndun," he said, tugging her into an alley.

She hissed and wrenched her arm out of his grasp. "Don' touch me," she spat, eyes glittering fever-bright. "Jus' gimme the stuff an' I'll pay ya."

"Sorry, sorry. Butcha see, I can' give it ya in da broad dayloit. Gotta come ovar 'ere first. Into me office." Jim points into the alley as he stuffs one hand into the pocket of his sweatpants.

She nodded fervently. "Yeah, yeah. Eyes, everywhere. Always looking," she muttered, darting her own eyes around, down the deserted streets. She followed Jim into the alley and Seb, close behind, had to hide a grin; Jim was a natural.

"Nao, you got da money?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Stuff first. Then money."

"Not da way I work. Gots ta have da money first. You can even give it to ma man 'ere. 'e'll take care of it for yah."

She glanced warily up at Seb. "Hey, don' I know you, mister?" she said, peering closely.

Seb felt his pulse race. She couldn't have recognized him. He wrinkled his nose and adopted a broad, Scottish accent. "Don' think so, luv. Visitin' from Glasgow," he said. "Now, do as he says, and show me the money."

As soon as the girl turned to face Sebastian, Jim slipped his knife from his pocket and grabbed the girl, covering her mouth with one hand and placing the blade against her carotid artery. "Too late, luv," he whispered.

The girl went as limp as a string before struggling mightily, managing to nail a bony elbow hard between Jim's ribs, causing him to loosen his grip. She wriggled her way out of his arms and made to run which Seb halted with a harsh backhand to her face. Two seconds later, she got up and ran like a rabbit. "The chase is on!" Seb told Jim, his eyes alight with the thrill of the hunt, bloodlust starting to glaze his vision. "Come on!"

Jim took off after her, pocketing the knife before running flat out. _Oh, he'd chosen well_. Her hat had come off in the scuffle and her long brown hair made her look just enough like...  _well, well, well. Looks like Kitten seems to be following me wherever I go_ , he thought as he and Seb chased her through the crowded streets.

They followed, through the maze-like city streets, keeping a bead on their prey. Twice Seb had almost caught her, dragging her into an alley and landing a few well-placed blows before she got away (before he _let_ her get away... the chase was like a drug to him) and ran once more. It was closing in on dusk when they finally cornered her, her thin form shaking and her chest heaving as she was backed into a wall, eyes wide and huge in fear.

"Well, that was...excellent fun," Jim panted, pulling his knife out again, "but I'm afraid... cat and mouse has gotten... a bit dull. Anything to... say, dear?"

She glared at him, drew in a deep breath, and spat. "Fuck you, mate," she gasped.

Jim sighed, wiping the saliva from his eyes. "If you wish, but I prefer Sebby here to have that marvelous task." He advanced with the knife.

Seb leaned against the alley wall as Jim advanced. "Remember... quick and clean."

"I know," Jim snapped. Seb raised his eyebrows, noting his shaking hands. The girl shrank down into the corner, trying to make a harder target.

Jim crouched down in front of her, pinning her wrists with one hand and placing the knife against her throat. "Farewell."

"Just _do_ it," Seb drawled. The girl was starting to struggle once more, fighting against the steel grip of the small man who held her. Biting his lip, Jim drew the blade sharply across her throat before stabbing her in the heart several times.

The wounds, while mortal, weren't quite deep enough to kill her at once. She gasped as she bled, her eyes growing suddenly and horribly clear. "I curse you... with my dying breath I curse you. May you always be bored. May you always be _alone_. As long as the knowledge of my blood 'pon your hands lasts, may this endure," she said, her voice harsh with blood.

Jim blanched, his face contorting into a hideous snarl. "Why won't you die?" he gasped, suddenly seeing Molly there instead of the druggie. Panicking, he dug the knife into her belly and dragged it upwards, slicing her stomach open and puncturing a lung.

The girl let out a horrid, choked laugh as she died, her blood and bowels spilling and steaming onto the winter asphalt. Seb took a step back. _Too messy_. "Jim, we gotta get out of here," he murmured. Her words stuck with him, smacking strongly of prophecy. He shook his head to clear it. No, it was just the dying ramblings of a burnt-out junkie.

"Help me..." the boy whispered, vaguely recognizing the symptoms of shock.

Seb wiped the girl's blood off the blade of Jim's switchblade, taking it from his nerveless fingers and tucking it away. "C'mon, let's get you home," he said, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy, whom he could feel trembling.

"Covered in blood... conspicuous"

"Good thing I came prepared," he said, stripping the soiled sweatshirt off of Jim and taking his own hoodie off, thankful that he had a decently thick jumper underneath it. "Now we need to _go_."

Jim nodded, stumbling after Sebby as they made their way back to the mansion.

oOoOo

Once they got into Jim's house, Seb guided his lover into his room and poured the boy a large measure of Scotch. "Drink this, _slowly._ Should help with the shock."

With slightly shaking hands, Jim slowly sipped the drink as he sat on the edge of his bed. " _Fucking hell_..."

He nodded. "First one is always the toughest."

"Think I'll let you do the killing from now on. Don't really like to get my hands dirty." Jim could feel the dried blood under his nails and downed the rest of the drink.

Seb raised an eyebrow. "All right," he said slowly. He guess that the blood and the chase and the words of the dying girl were too much. He had to admit, this was the first time he had heard this dramatic an oath, especially from a junkie. It was almost...  _Shakespearean_ in its nature. And the fact that the girl looked startlingly like Molly didn't help any.

"Need to be clean and warm and want to smell like you."

"Go shower, then. Use my soap. I'll be here when you get back," Seb reassured him, going over and pressing a kiss to Jim's clammy brow. "I'll have the covers turned down too."

The boy nodded before stumbling to Seb's shower and yelling at the scalding water on his frozen body. He spent a long time warming up and getting comfortable before scrubbing thoroughly with Seb's favorite soap. It was torture to leave the warm cocoon he'd made, but the thought of Sebby waiting for him helped get him moving.

Seb had changed from his hunting clothes into his loose pajama pants, getting the bed ready for Jim. He smiled lazily when he heard the shower shut off. In just a towel, Jim walked slowly and lazily back into his own room, gazing contentedly at Sebastian on his bed. "And the pet obediently waits for the master. How lovely," he murmured as he reached into his drawer for a pair of pants.

Seb was out of bed before Jim could blink and shut the drawer with a slam. "Ooooh, a mistake, Jimmy-love," he purred. " _I_ am the master, lest you forget." He claimed Jim's mouth roughly and started moving him backwards toward the bed.

Growling happily, Jim jumped up and threw his legs around Seb's waist, kissing him with complete abandon. Seb clung to Jim and tore at his towel, arching against him before flipping him and pinning him to the mattress. He tore his mouth away from Jim's to bite and suck down his lover's jaw and neck, nipping at his collarbones and winding his fingers into the fine dark hair that was still damp from the shower.

"Oh dear god, _Sebby_!" Jim moaned, twisting and rocking against the warm skin of his lover. "Please don't stop, more, more, _more_!"

"Feeling... generous tonight," the blonde panted. "Go get the lube and condoms. God, I want you so badly."

Jim wriggled out from under Seb and dove across the bed to his side table, grabbing what Seb asked for. Then, slowly, he put the condoms back. "We're clean, remember? Sure the Tiger doesn't want it...  _intimate_?" he smirked over his shoulder.

Seb growled. "Oooh, I _love_ the way you think," he said. He snatched the lube away from Jim and stripped, then slicked up his cock, his fingers, then Jim's entrance. He slowly worked two fingers into his lover, curling and spreading them, pressing hot kisses against Jim's chest, biting at his nipples.

Jim collapsed against the mattress, running his hands through his hair as Seb worked him open torturously slow. Each bite sent him squeaking and squirming but just made him fuck himself harder onto Sebastian's fingers. Seb chuckled into Jim's skin as he heard him squeak. He withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock, sliding into Jim and filling him to the hilt. He rolled them over so that Jim was over top of him. "Ride me..." he breathed into Jim's ear, clutching at his hips and arching upwards to encourage him.

The younger boy's eyes widened as he looked down at his boyfriend, eyes blown and mouth swollen, looking slightly debauched. Keeping his hands in his dark hair to start, Jim began rocking on Seb, slowly circling his hips and then running his hands down his body and over Seb's chest.

The older boy's eyes nearly fluttered shut as Jim began to move, watching him circle his hips and slide his hands over his own body then over his chest. "F- _fuck_...  _James_ " he breathed, his voice a harsh gasp.

"Like that, Tiger?" Jim's voice was barely a purr.

"Oh _yes_... God, _yes_ ," he said, tightening his grip on Jim's hips and arching his back to try and get closer to him, if that was at all possible.

"Oh the Tiger just _loves_ his bloody control, _doesn't he_?"

"And so what if I do?" Seb panted back. "'Cause I've had so little of it in my own life. Control is what I have, it's what makes me safe," he snarled.

"Oh no, control doesn't protect you, _I_ protect you."

"Yesssssss..." Seb hissed. As much as he loved his control, he could feel his own teetering on the edge.

Jim slowed down, lowering himself over Seb until their mouths were just barely apart. "I protect you, Sebastian Moran, my pet, my Tiger, my soldier."

He felt his breath and Jim's mingling into one as he spoke. "My Jim, my Magpie, my mastermind... yes, yes, _yes_..." he panted, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head.

Jim brushed his lips against Seb's Adam's apple, stilling himself completely as he sucked on the bulge under the skin

"Ah...  _ah_! J-Jim... _please_..." Seb begged. He was always keyed up after a hunt, and this was driving him mad by slow degrees.

"Please _what_ , my Pet? Are you giving back control? Giving everything back after your _glorious_ month as my Dom?" Jim's lips inched toward the side of Seb's neck.

His prize didn't end until tomorrow, technically, but he couldn't stand it. He really couldn't. "Yes. Just _move_. Fuck me, Jim... fuck me _please_."

Jim just lay against Seb's chest, hugging him as he moved his arse slightly on Seb's cock. The blonde growled; he couldn't take it anymore. Rolling them over, he pinned Jim beneath him. " _Tease_..." he said harshly, withdrawing slowly before ramming back in with a groan that was torn from the bottom of him.

Jim yelled, squeezing his eyes shut tight as his body trembled. "I know... and you _love_ it... hanh!!!! SEB!"

"Oh- fuck-  _yes_ \- I- love- it-'Cause- I- love-  _you_ -" Seb panted, punctuating each word with a thrust and a roll of his hips.

"More, I- need- more," Jim begged, reduced to a quivering lump of murderer and genius at Seb's ministrations. "Love- your- cock, so- big- Sebby, so- hard- for- me..."

"Oh- yes. Only for _you_ ," Seb said, snapping his hips quicker, bending and scraping his teeth down Jim's sternum.

"Only- ever- for- me- again!"

"Only- for- you-  _always_."

Jim's eyes snapped open and he nearly came just from Seb's gaze. "Make- me- come...don't- touch- me...just- your- amazing- gorgeous- dripping-"

Seb snarled, not letting Jim finish his sentence, and thrust deeply once, twice, three times. Each time he hit Jim's prostate and withdrew slowly in the way he knew drove Jim crazy.

On the third thrust, Jim came, screaming Sebastian's name as his body convulsed. Seb didn't even let him curl up on himself, holding him in place as he continued to take him. Jim was thrashing and screaming and Seb held him down, coming with a groan of his lover's name in a voice so deep that it was nearly subvocal as Jim's muscles tightened and fluttered around him, and he felt Jim's release paint his stomach and chest. When they were both finished, he nearly collapsed on the smaller boy and just lay there, panting and gaining his resting heart rate back.

"IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou," Jim was chanting as he fought to regain the use of his lungs and take stock of his body. Everything was so relaxed that he didn't think he'd be moving on his own anytime soon, and he smelled very strongly of Sebastian, making his lips twitch in a smile.

Seb grinned and nuzzled into Jim, showing his sharp teeth ferally as he caught Jim's scent nearly overpowered by his own. "And I love you," he said in reply.

"Sticky," Jim mumbled, resting his head on Seb's sweaty curls. "Want clean then cuddle."

Seb chuckled. "Fine. Let's go get cleaned up."

"Can't move."

Sliding out of Jim, he lifted him up, almost bridal-style, and carried him into the bathroom, setting him down in the shower as he turned on the hot water before joining him, sighing in pleasure as the warm water hit his skin. Jim curled up around Seb's feet as the water poured down their bodies, washing most of the evidence of their activities down the drain.

"Oh, aren't you a bedraggled little Magpie...? C'mere, love. Let me clean you up," he murmured, taking a soapy washcloth to Jim after he stood the smaller man up and wrapped his arms around his waist to steady him.

Jim leaned heavily against Seb for support, whimpering softly as his lover cleaned him off. "Use your soap," he mumbled as the water plastered his hair to his forehead.

"Already done, love," he said, being as gentle as he could.

"Mmmmm, good."

Seb let out a rumbling chuckle as he finished cleaning Jim up, just content to hold him close under the hot water, pressing the occasional kiss to his wet hair.

"Like this, love you, all warm and wet, Tiger."

"And I love you, any way you are, Magpie."

"Mkay, dry now. Sleeeeeepy little birdie needs his rest."

Seb chuckled again as he quickly cleaned himself and then shut off the water. He removed them both from the shower and gently toweled Jim off, dressing him in a pair of pajama pants before following suit, curling up in bed with his beloved, drawing him close. Jim tugged the covers up and curled up into a little ball against Seb. "Feel safe with you," he confessed quietly.

He swallowed hard, the confession the most vulnerable he had ever seen Jim. He couldn't think of a reply, so he just held him tighter.

"Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree, merry, merry king of the brush is he." (1)

Seb had to snicker. "Really? Nursery rhymes?"

"He's a bird and a king. Dunno if I know any songs about Tigers. Do keep up."

"Too subtle to be a kookaburra. They're too goddamn _loud_. And don't need any songs about tigers if I've got you. You're the only song I need."

"But I wanted to sing you off to sleep," Jim mumbled into Seb's chest, mock pouting against the warm slightly damp skin

"Then sing me something you like. No kookaburras..."

The pale boy snorted. "My shadow's the only one that walks beside me. My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating. Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me. 'Til then I walk alone.." (2)

This just made Seb laugh even harder. " _Green Day_? Oh, Boss," he said fondly. Then he grew quiet and thought. "You're thinking about what she said, aren't you..."

"Course I am. How can I not? Every time I close my eyes it's her bloody face and those words haunting me," he snapped, starting to tremble. "I want them to go _away_."

Seb held Jim tighter, willing away the fear with his body and his warmth. "Shhh..." He paused for a moment before he started to sing himself, feeling more than slightly foolish. "Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around. Nothing's gonna harm you, no sir, not while I'm around. Demons are prowling everywhere nowadays. I'll send 'em howling, I don't care, I've got ways. No one's gonna hurt you, no one's gonna dare. Others will desert you, not me, whistle, I'll be there. Demons will charm you with a smile, for a while, but in time... nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around." (3)

Inexplicably, Jim felt hot tears forcing their way out of his eyes as Seb sang to him. The blonde nearly started as he saw tears seeping out of his younger lover's eyes. He kissed them gently away, not asking any questions or prying, just being there for him.

"Don't you _dare_ leave me," Jim whispered, holding onto the other boy tightly

"Not ever."

"Good. I-  _godfuckingdamnit_ \- I don't think I'd be able to handle it anymore if you did."

Seb held Jim to him as tightly as they could both bear. "I'm _never_ going to leave you," he reiterated fiercely, softly.

Jim kept crying, hot, salty, stinging tears that he loathed, signs of weakness and softness where he didn't want any to exist, where none had existed before the older blonde boy had come into his life.

"Shhhh.... I've got you... I've got you," Seb murmured, rubbing his lover's back.

"S-S-Sebby," he sobbed and suddenly he'd yanked himself up and level with Seb's face, his own eyes red from crying and still leaking. Sebastian kissed Jim, not caring that he was still crying. Jim _needed_ him, and he'd be there. It was hard and desperate and so very wet. The pale boy kissed every inch of Seb's mouth his lips and tongue could reach, digging his fingers into the damp blonde curls to hold Seb even closer.

"I love you," he whispered between hot, stinging kisses that bordered on desperation, winding his fingers into Jim's hair just as Jim did to him.

"I love you too," Jim moaned back, climbing on top of Seb and holding him closer.

Seb just held Jim, his desire spent. There was no room for lust here, anyway. This was a time for healing and comfort. "And I'll always love you. Always, always, _always_."

Utterly exhausted and drained, Jim curled up on Seb's chest, his head resting on the boy's shoulder. "Keep me safe, Tiger," he whispered, his voice breaking with unshed sobs as he started to fall asleep.

"'Til my last breath, Magpie," Seb murmured back as he started to drift off to sleep as well, lulled by Jim's warmth and heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) 'Kookaburra sits on the old gum tree'- Australian folk song
> 
> (2)- Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day
> 
> (3)- Not While I'm Around from Sweeney Todd
> 
> And that's Part 2!!!! Part 3 should be up soon. I have a backlog of documents to edit. Until then...your obedient friend...and angel.


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